Lonely
by Darth-Suzi
Summary: LM. Mara tries to kill herself. Luke gets there in time to get her to a medcenter before she dies, and they talk.


Timeframe: Six years after TTT

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade

Genre: Vignette, angst, sappy romance

Summary: Mara tries to kill herself. Luke gets there in time to get her to a medcenter before she dies, and they talk.

Rating: Heavy PG/Light PG-13

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She eyes the knife by her side.

It's just a long, sharp piece of metal. Primitive. In her life as an assassin, she would have called it a stupid, useless object. It's too heavy to use well, and too unlikely to actually end the target's life.

But she is no longer an assassin. Perhaps it is in rebellion of her former master that she turns to this. The thought of the reprimand she would have gotten for using such an unreliable weapon leads her to defiance, despite the fact that it has been eleven years since he died. She does not serve him!

But at least, in those dark years when she was the Emperor's Hand, there had been a purpose to her life. Despite the fact that it was the gruesome purpose of ending other those of others, it was not this endless monotony.

It is not that she does not like her job. It is a wonderful job, the one she dreamed of having, when she'd still had hopes and dreams. The life of a smuggler turned Master Trader is exciting.

But it is empty, and she is lonely. She has acquaintances and colleagues, of course. But, somehow, she is separate from them.

She feels childish, searching for acceptance and friendship. She knows the old saying, despite never hearing it as a child.

To have a friend, you must first be one.

But she doesn't know how to be a friend. Emotion was frowned upon in the Emperor's service. Growing up, she learned to rely on no one but herself, and that self-reliance is a part of her now.

It is helpful at times. If she is captured or attacked, she is confident in her abilities to save herself.

But at other times, her loneliness and despair overcomes her, and she hates herself and her inability to open up and show emotion. She hates her self-reliance and what it has made her.

This is one of those times.

She is sitting on the floor in her sparsely decorated Coruscant apartment. There is a couch in the middle of the room, but right now, she prefers the floor. She doesn't know why.

There is a note on the floor next to her, written on flimsy. It is to the one who is her friend, even though she doesn't really know how to be a friend in return. He teaches her how to be a friend.

But she is afraid of him. Afraid of what he could become.

Afraid of what he did become, years ago, when the Emperor was reborn. Before, the fact that he had the power to become another Emperor, and control her as Palpatine did, was indistinct and vague. It had been realized then, when he had fallen.

But somehow it comforts her. He knows the terrors of the Dark Side now, and is all the more cautious of it. He knows how seductive anger can be.

The letter she has written to him is short. It doesn't explain anything, really. Not why she is doing this. Not whom she is angry at.

In fact, the note will only tell him one thing. But that one thing is all that matters now. It's the only thing that has let her hold on this long.

It will tell him that she loves him.

For she does love him, though it has taken years for her to finally realize it.

And sitting conspicuously beside that note is the knife.

She takes it into her hands, rubbing her thumb down the side of the blade. It is sharp, certainly. She gasps as the knife breaks the skin on her finger. It is painful—not that she hadn't expected it to be.

But she has hesitated long enough.

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He feels her pain through the Force, and comes.

She hadn't planned that. She'd known he was on Coruscant, and that he would most likely be the first to know, but had expected him to be with his sister and her family. She hadn't anticipated him making it in time.

So when he rushes through the door, she is surprised.

And so is he, but for a different. His blue eyes widen and she can feel his shock as he takes everything in.

She doesn't see it well, as her vision is dampening, but she knows what it must look like. The red on the floor, the knife that had fallen from her hands, and her sitting there, arms wrapped around her knees.

It must look like what it is.

"Oh, Mara," he gasps as he runs over to her. He takes her into his embrace, rocking her gently back and forth. They are both crying now.

The last thing she feels is his arms around her.

Then it is all black.

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The next thing she sees is the medcenter wall.

Then she sees him, sitting by her bed. His cheeks are tearstained, and there are dark circles under his eyes.

Her gaze drifts to his hands, and she sees the letter she wrote to him clenched there. She feels as though a fist has closed on her gut. She had expected to be dead when he read it. She doesn't to know what his reaction would be.

"Did you read it?" she asks, uncharacteristically soft-spoken.

Startled, he glances up, and hugs her fiercely.

"I've missed you," he says, not letting her go. "Mara, you have no idea how worried I've been."

She just hugs him for several minutes. "You still haven't answered my question," she informs him finally, pulling back from their embrace.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "No."

She is surprised, but knows that he is telling the truth. "Why not?"

For a long moment, there is no answer, and she begins to think there will never be one. Then she feels a hand under her chin, and she looks up at him.

"Mara," he says quietly, looking straight into her eyes, and, it feels, into her soul. "I can't. That would mean admitting that it was over, that you were never going to wake up. I could never do that."

"I'm going to die someday, farmboy, and so are you."

"I know that," he replies. "Still, I hope that it is many years from now, when you die peacefully in your sleep of old age."

"I've never done a thing in my life peacefully. Why do you expect me die that way?"

He chuckles at that. "Very true." He hesitates for a moment. "But seriously, Mara, do you have any idea how difficult it would be to read a suicide note from the person you love more than anyone in the world?"

She freezes for a moment in shock. "What?"

"I love you, Mara," he says simply.

All she can do is stare at him mutely.

"I know you may not want to hear it, but it's true," he continues, rushing now. "And, Mara, I'm sorry, and I don't want to hurt you, but it's true. I love you. I don't expect anything in return, and I understand if you want to part ways and never speak to me again. But I want you to know this. I love you."

After this declaration, he turns away and starts to walk out of the room.

"Luke," she says quietly.

He turns back and glances at her, clearly surprised at her use of his first name.

She can see in his eyes his certainty of rejection. She remembers the number of times it has happened before, with Jem, Gaeriel, Callista, and so many others. She is furious at them for tossing away the best thing that ever happened to them, but is also selfishly grateful. She sees that he has resigned himself to a life alone, and loves him all the more for it, for she had resigned herself to the same fate.

She smiles at him, trying to reassure him. "Read the note," she tells him.

She can see his trepidation, but he obeys.

It doesn't take him long to read it. When he looks back at her, his eyes are bright again, but there is caution also on his face.

"Do you mean it?" he whispers, half afraid of the answer.

In reply, she stands up and walks over to him. She feels slightly dizzy, but doesn't care.

"The 2-1B will have my head for this," he tells her. "I was supposed to make sure you stayed in bed."

"And since when are you afraid of a droid?"

He laughs, but she can still sense his uncertainty. "I love you, Luke," she whispers.

It is the first time she has said it aloud, and for just a moment, she can see a smile explode across his face.

Then they kiss.

It is better than she had imagined, far better. All of their barriers break down, and she is overwhelmed at the depths of his love—depths which she reciprocates.

Finally they break apart, both breathing quickly and raggedly. Their joy mingles in the Force as they stare at each other.

He breaks the silence. "Will you marry me?"

For a second time, she is stunned speechless.

"Mara, I know it's sudden, but—"

She interrupts him. "Is it just because of one kiss?"

Shocked, his eyes meet hers. "Mara, it's because I love you. It's because I want to spend my life with you. It's because that time I spent watching you lay motionless was the worst time of my life. I know you're having a hard time right now, and I want to help you work through it, if you'll let me. And I want to do it as your husband."

"Yes," she replies.

And she is happy.


End file.
